


Deflection

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Antichrist, Armageddon, Falling In Love, Hate Speech, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Spoils of War, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), War, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-07 17:09:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Armageddon happened...Crowley tried to stop it and failed spectacularly. Now he's trapped on earth, cut off from hell and caught in the middle of a war.And, of course, there's the blasted angel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think my ovaries may have exploded when I saw David Tennant's long, wavy red hair.
> 
> Ka-Boom!

Armageddon, unsurprisingly, did absolutely nothing for the already dismal British weather. Crowley would have legged it ages ago, but the higher-ups locked down all unauthorised travel the minute the antichrist threw his first tantrum. _So here I am_ , he thought miserably, shivering uncontrollably as the cold and wet seeped into his bones, drenching him completely. _Alone, freezing and in a thoroughly bad mood._

He heard someone scream nearby and instinctively dropped to his haunches, pressing his back against the stinking wall of the alleyway. He closed his eyes, steadfastly ignoring the steady drop of water trickling unpleasantly down his back, wondering if the owner of said scream had been an angel, human or demon.

In the end, he supposed it didn’t really matter, discorporated or dead they were no longer a threat to either side. He allowed his tense muscles to relax after a few minutes, slowly hugging himself for warmth even though he was already drenched. A miserable state of affairs for a serpent to find himself in, all things considered.

He uncurled slowly, rising to his full height when he heard voices nearby, laughing and boastful.

“She really screamed, huh?” a gravelly voice asked, too close to where Crowley was attempting to hide. “Angle bitch didn’t know what hit her.”

“You really got her good,” his companion simpered, dancing around the greater demon as they stepped into the mouth of the alleyway.

Crowley didn’t know them personally but he recognised the lesser demons by sight; they were part of Byleth’s legion. He must have moved, or breathed too deeply because suddenly two pairs of eerily pale eyes locked onto him.

“Crowley,” said the larger of the two, smiling with a mouth full of pointed, rotten teeth. “What are you doing here?”

“Pillaging of course,” Crowley said, despite the fact he was standing in an empty, stinking alley. He forced a smile as they continued to stare at him.“You know how it is. Busy, busy…”

“I heard a rumour that duke Hastur is looking for you,” the smaller demon simpered, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t be hiding from him, would you?”

“Of course not,” Crowley said, resisting the urge to back away; the moment he showed weakness he knew the two demons would attack him. He flashed a bright grin, the effect immediately ruined when his teeth started chattering “He’s got much better things to do than concern himself with little old me.”

“Word is that you tried to stop it,” the larger one hissed, stepping boldly into the alleyway. “They say you’re a liar, Crowley. They say you’re not even one of us, not really.”

“Well _they’re_ wrong,” the serpent said, straightening to his full height. Was he going to have to fight them? Crowley wasn’t exactly known for his battle skills, he was more of a schemer and manipulator than a fighter. He wouldn’t do well in a direct confrontation.

“How about you come with us and we’ll ask the duke directly.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. Crowley stumbled back, raising his hands appealingly when he heard the unmistakable sound of wings in flight. He instinctively threw himself to the ground, seconds before a flaming sword whistled through the air and struck the smaller demon in the chest.

“Fucking angels,” the larger demon snarled, pulling out a wicked dagger with a jagged edge and brandishing it desperately. “Get the fuck away from me,” he screamed as his comrade collapsed and dissipated into a cloud of nothing.

Two angels stepped into view. The male retrieved his sword, his blue-eyed gaze flickering curiously over Crowley, lingering a moment before he pointed the blade at the demon. Crowley felt his breath catch - he recognised that angel. _Aziraphale_!

“Where is Haaiah?” he demanded, his voice wavering and his eyes glittering. “What have you done?”

“You mean the bitch?” The demon asked, smirking.

_Big mistake._

“Where is she?”

“She’s been dissipated, you holier than now fucking cunt-“

The female took the demons head clean off. Crowley shuddered and buried his face in his arms. Maybe, if he stayed very quiet and still, they might forget about him. Crazier things had happened.

“Haaiah will be fine, Aziraphale,” the female said, offering comfort. “She’s in a better place. She’s done her part.”

“She didn’t want to go back up,” Aziraphale said, weepy and forlorn. “I promised her.”

“You did everything you could... Hey now, what’s this?”

_Fuck._

“Temptation demon,” Aziraphale muttered. “He’s named Crawly?”

“Crowley,” he automatically corrected, his voice muffled by his arms. He looked up cautiously, half-expecting to find a flaming sword in his face “How are things Aziraphale?”

“You know him?” the female asked, her surprise evident.

“Ever since the beginning,” Aziraphale replied, sounding thoughtful and still incredibly sad.

“The serpent?” the female angel asked, understanding dawning in her eyes. “I’ve heard about him - he tried to stop the war, didn’t he?”

“So they say. Come, my dear, it isn’t safe here.”

“Shouldn’t we,” she gestured at Crowley with her sword. “You know…”

“He’s harmless,” the other angel said dismissively.

Despite himself, Crowley felt his hackles rise. He wasn’t harmless, he was just temporarily out of tricks. Big damned difference.

“I’ve heard Beelzebub wants him quite badly,” the female said, stepping closer. “That’s probably why the other two were attacking him. He could be used as a bargaining chip.”

Crowley moved swiftly to his knees, holding out his hands as he stood up. “You really don’t want to do that,” he said with no small amount of desperation. “I’m not one of them - haven’t been for ages. Never really was.”

“You’re a demon,” the female said incredulously. “Of course you’re one of them.”

“I’m a demon, yes, but that doesn’t make me like them. I’ve never hurt anyone, not once. Or at least, nothing permanent”

“Weren’t you responsible for the Spanish Inquisition?” she asked dryly.

“Not even a little. They did it to themselves, all that evil and bloodshed. I just sort of...took the credit.”

“Took the credit?” she repeated slowly.

“It’s all I’ve ever done. It’s all I’ve ever had to do. Humans - they do quite enough without my influence.”

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” she asked Aziraphale.

“I think he might be,” the other angel answered, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I’ve observed him over the years. He has, at times, performed acts of, well of kindness.”

Crowley hissed at him.

“So what do we do with him?” she asked, looking to the principality for direction.

“You could just let me go,” Crowley offered helpfully.

“Shush,” Aziraphale said, using his free hand to trace his jaw. “Although, we could -”

“We’re not letting him go Aziraphale.”

“No, no of course not!” the angel agreed quickly. “Though, perhaps…”

Crowley almost jumped out of his skin when another angel landed directly in front of him. He realised he was looking at Michael the _bloody arch-fucking-angel._ He stumbled back, knocking into Aziraphale who immediately took a firm hold on his upper arms.

“Well, well, what have you two managed to catch?” She asked, smiling with his stupidly perfect white teeth. “Is that the serpent?”

He was so, so very done for.

“Hello Michael,” Aziraphale said, his tone painfully polite. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I was told Haaiah was dissipated. I wanted to make sure you were OK. Was it the serpent?”

“Hardly,” the female said. “It was two lesser demons. They caught Haaiah when she was alone and unaware. We handled them.”

“Excellent,” Michael said, his eyes still locked on Crowley and the rather tight hold Aziraphale had on him. “And what do you suppose we should do with this one?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, coughing nervously. “I rather thought I might...keep him.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Keep him?” Michael and Penemue said simultaneously.

“Well yes, as a sort of...spoil of war? I’m told that sort of thing is allowed. A bit of holy pillaging.”

“We do not _pillage_ ,” Michael said incredulously. “Besides, he’s a demon.”

“A pretty demon,” Aziraphale argued, “And, by all accounts, a fairly harmless one. Why shouldn’t I get to keep him?”

“ _He’s a demon_ ,” Michael repeated deliberately.

“He was one of us before he fell,” Aziraphale said, sounding, he thought, very reasonable. “I can still feel his grace.” Crowley flinched at that, squirming in a weak attempt to break free. Aziraphale increased his hold, pushing down his guilt when the demon winced. “What harm could it do?”

Michael’s eyes moved slowly up and down Crowley. The temptation demon shuddered and bowed his head, causing the long strands of his fiery hair to obscure his features. “The serpent of Eden? Quite a bit I imagine.”

“I’ll ensure he doesn’t get up to any mischief,” Aziraphale promised brightly, holding onto his smile while Michael stared back at him, clearly unimpressed.

“Fine,” she allowed, just as he felt his expression begin to crack. “Keep him, but on your own head be it.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, pulling Crowley a little closer. “Thank you, Michael.”

“Just get back to your havens, both of you. We can’t afford to lose anyone else today,” she primly unfurled her great wings and took to the skies. Aziraphale watched her go before turning to his old friend.

 _One down, one to go,_ he thought gravely as his lips stretched in a wide and painful smile.

“Well, that went splendidly.”

“You can’t do this,” Penemue said, looking more than a little furious. “He’s dangerous.”

“My dear, you forget that I am a principality. This pretty thing is a rankless, fallen angel. He is being hunted by his own kind. He's hardly a threat to me.”

“But why do you want him?” she insisted, her emerald green eyes intense. “You’ve never shown any interest in spoils before. It’s...wrong Aziraphale.”

“Of course it isn’t, otherwise Michael wouldn’t have permitted it. She is an archangel, after all.”

“You know better,” Penemue scolded, looking so disappointed in him that he felt his face burn in shame.

“You’ll see,” he said softly, “All will be well.”

She shook her head and unfurled her wings. “Do you need assistance moving him?”

“No,” Aziraphale said, allowing his own wings to break free. “I have him. I’ll see you soon, yes?”

“At the next council,” her gaze moved back to Crowley. “Be careful with him.”

“Of course,” he said, watching as she pumped her wings and launched into the air. “Toodle-oo.”

“Toodle-oo?” Crowley muttered, shaking his head as he shifted against Aziraphale’s hold. “So, is this the part where you let me go and tell your angel friends you lost me?”

“You know I can’t do that, dear boy,” he said, trailing his fingers over Crowley’s shoulders, pressing gently against the joints where his wings would exist if they were unfurled. “Will you come with me?”

“What if I say no?”

“I’d really rather it didn’t come to that.”

“I’m sure,” the serpent grumbled as he continued to shift unhappily. He signed tiredly before releasing his startlingly raven wings. Aziraphale stepped back. giving the demon some space. He kept a firm grip on Crowley's arm to ensure he didn’t try anything foolish.

“Lovely,” he said, resisting the urge to run his fingers down Crowley’s charming feathers -- he suspected the demon wouldn’t thank him for it. He took hold of the serpents wrist and allowed his own wings to spread open. “Follow me then.”

“To where?”

“You know where Crowley,” he said, meeting the demon’s lenses covered eyes for the first time since Michael appeared.

“Your little bookshop? It’s still standing?”

“It’s shielded,” Aziraphale said, tugging gently on Crowley’s arm. “Come, my dear, we need to leave. It isn’t safe.”

“It certainly isn’t,” the demon agreed, taking to the air at Aziraphale’s prompting. “Is this safe then?” he called, raising his voice to be heard above the howling wind. “Being in the air like this?”

“No one will bother us,” Aziraphale said confidently. “We’re winning. Surely you must realise that?”

"You're an idiot, angel," Crowley sneered, seconds before he twisted violently and ripped his arm free. He swerved violently towards the ground and, after a moment of astonishment, Aziraphale followed him.


	3. Chapter 3

The angel was a fool. Despite all the years he had spent on Earth he was still naive and too trusting. When Crowley broke free, the principality didn’t sensibly try to smite him; instead, he plunged after the demon with an indignant squawk, moving towards him at speed.

Crowly felt mildly impressed as he twisted in the air, barely avoiding the angel’s grasp. He may have been without rank, arguably he had little power, but he was an agile and quick flier. He could lose the angel, he just knew it.

He wasn’t expecting the principality to throw the sword at him; he flew back in shock, giving the angel ample opportunity to act. Crowley cried out in equal measures of panic and pain when he and the angel collided. They grappled as they fell and the demon realised with a pang of terror that when they hit the ground it was going to really fucking hurt - possibly baldy enough to discorporate him. He couldn’t go below, not after what he had done. Not yet.

“Stop,” he gasped, going limp as the angel wrapped his arms around Crowley's waist and hoisted him into the air. The demon pushed his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder, shuddering as he felt gentle fingers run through his hair.

“Oh, you silly thing,” the angel murmured, his tone painfully gentle. “What did you hope to achieve?”

“I didn’t expect you to throw a flaming fucking sword at me,” Crowley hissed, shaking his wings irritably.

“I wasn’t trying to hit you,” the angel said primly. He side-eyed Crowley warily. “Are you going to try that again?”

“What if I do?”

Aziraphale tutted irritably, tightening his grip around Crowley’s waist. “It would be unwise. Michael won’t let you go a second time.”

“She won’t ever find me. I’ll stay hidden; I’m good at that.”

“My dear boy, if you were found once you’ll be found again. You don’t have a side anymore. You’re...well, your utterly friendless. It would be irresponsible of me to let you go.”

“Why do you even care?” Crowley asked, stumbling a little when they hit the ground. The angel was still holding onto him and Crowly couldn’t help but notice, as they stood almost nose-to-nose, what kind eyes Aziraphale possessed -- he’d always thought so.

Aziraphale blinked up at the demon, seemingly realising how close they were. “I know you, Crowley. I’ve watched you over the years. You don’t deserve…” he shook his head, transferring his grip to Crowley’s bicep. He led them to his fallen sword, picking it up with a huff and placed it in the gilded sheath on his hip. “You don’t deserve to be sent to hell for trying to help people.”

“All in my own interest,” he muttered, grunting when Aziraphale curled his arm around his waist and pulled him tight against his chest. They were very close again. “It’s not like anyone else was going to do anything.”

The angel frowned unhappily. “And look where it got you.”

“It might have gone differently if I’d had help.”

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t have made a difference, my boy. The war was supposed to happen - it was part of the great plan. Now, please don’t try to escape again, otherwise, I’ll be forced to bind you,” the angel warned, taking to the air and dragging Crowley with him

The demon allowed Aziraphale to bear his weight without protest. The truth was, now that the shock was begining to wear off, he was really starting to feel the cold again - in fact, as the icy wind tore into him - he realised he was freezing. At least being so close to the angel provided some much-needed warmth.

“We’ll arrive at the sanctuary soon,” Aziraphale said in that soft, kind way of his. He thankfully ignored the way Crowley clung to him, his gaze fixed ahead as he presumably looked for any potential threats.

Crowley was only a little surprised when they landed outside the bookstore. Of course Aziraphale would still reside in the shop, it was his pride and joy after all. The angel took his arm in a loose hold, leading him inside and up to a flight of stairs. They entered into a little flat that looked like it belonged to a ninety-year-old granny.

“Sit down, dear boy before you fall over,” the angel said, giving him a small push towards the settee. Grumbling at being told what to do, Crowley did, in fact, decide to sit down (collapse) on the antique piece of furniture.

He silently listened to Aziraphale tinker around the kitchen, trying very hard not to curl up and go to sleep. He was still shivering rather excessively - he could try and miracle himself dry but he honestly didn’t think he would be able to muster the energy.

He jumped when the kettle whistled merrily in the background, startling him from his half-doze as Aziraphale placed a little tray of biscuits directly in front of him. “Help yourself,” he coaxed, sparing a quick look at the Crowley before returning to his tea. “You don’t look very well, Crowley. When was the last time you rested?”

“You said it yourself,” Crowley said, raising his knees to his chest to try and conserve heat. “I’m friendless, angel, which isn’t exactly constructive to a restful nights sleep.”

Aziraphale tutted, placing a little silver tea tray beside the biscuits and plopping down next to Crowley on the settee. “How do you take your tea, dear?” he asked, clearly intent on his task.

Crowley was about to instinctively refuse when he reconsidered. If nothing else the tea would be warm. “It’s fine as it is.”

“Do you want milk?”

“No.”

Aziraphale looked like someone had slapped him. “What, none at all?”

“None at all,” Crowley agreed, reaching out to take a dainty little china teacup. He gripped it in both hands, enjoying the meagre heat it provided.

The angel hummed, sipping his tea happily. They fell into a surprisingly peaceful silence for a time.

“You’re shivering,” Aziraphale noted sometime later, sounding concerned. He reached out and pressed his hand against Crowley’s sleeve. “My dear boy, you’re soaked.”

“We were outside, whilst it was raining,” Crowley pointed out, too tired to sound properly pissy. “You’re soaked too.”

Aziraphale looked at his own sleeve, seemingly amazed. “My goodness, so I am. I had no idea.”

“Cold-blooded serpent,” Crowley said, gesturing to himself.

“Why don’t you miracle yourself dry?”

“Too tired,” the demon answered truthfully.

The angel tutted and snapped his fingers. Crowley was engulfed in a perfect moment of warmth before he found a blanked dumped on his lap.

“There we are,” the angel declared happily. “You’re all nice, dry and warm.”

“Thank you,” Crowley said, sincerely.

The angel paused, smiling with a pleased little tilt of his lips. “You’re very welcome, Crowley.”


End file.
